


Just A Dream

by Walsingham



Category: Mighty Boosh (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-12
Updated: 2012-11-12
Packaged: 2017-11-18 12:20:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/561017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Walsingham/pseuds/Walsingham
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vince wakes from a nightmare where he was turning into Baboo Yagu, otherwise known as The Hitcher.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just A Dream

   Vince Noir woke with a start, sweat plastering his hair to his forehead. He had been having a horrible dream that he had slowly been turning into Baboo Yagu, a figure that had haunted his dreams ever since the green man had set foot in the Nabootique last week. In his dream, the magic shaman that was part human and part hornet had been about to sting his thumb, so that it would swell up to match that of Baboo Yagu's.

   Vince sat up and dragged his clammy fingers through his hair, pushing it back off his face. He looked down at his hands, half expecting to see green skin. When he felt he had inspected his hands thoroughly enough, he pushed back the sheets, swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up. He made his way out into the hallway to the bathroom that he and Howard shared. He stood at the sink and turned on the taps, splashing the icy water onto his face. Looking at himself in the mirror, he took in his tired state. The bags under his eyes were only just being concealed by special cream and the make-up he wore during the day.

   He heard footsteps coming down the hallway, and hurriedly splashed more water on his face to make him look more awake. Howard stepped into the doorframe a moment later in his flannel pyjamas.

   "Vince, what are you doing? It's three o'clock in the morning," Howard said, rubbing sleep out of his eyes.

   "Go back to bed, Howard," Vince replied, not looking at him. He wouldn't let Howard see his usually bright and happy friend looking so tired and miserable. Howard didn't move.

   "What's wrong now?" he said with a sigh.

   "Nothing, honestly. Go back to bed."

   "Vince."

   Turning the taps off, Vince looked down at his hands again. "Bad dream."

   "Again?"

   "No. It's different this time."

   "You said that a few weeks ago, when you had the one about the kiwi that Naboo smoked coming back to kidnap you and take its family home."

   "India."

   "Kiwis aren't from India."

   "Yeah they are. Wikipedia said-"

   "Never mind, that's not important right now," Howard said, interrupting Vince. Vince scowled at his reflection. "What makes this one different?"

   Vince took a handtowel off the rack beside the sink and dried his face before talking, giving himself time to choose the right words. He looked at his reflection, decided he didn't look as weary, and turned to Howard.

   "Do you remember last week when Baboo Yagu-?" Vince started, but was interrupted again.

   "Don't use his name! Call him The Hitcher," Howard hissed. Vince rolled his eyes.

   "Fine. The Hitcher. Do you remember last week when he came into the shop?" Vince asked, starting to get irritated. Howard nodded. "He said something to me when your back was turned."

   "I expect he said a great many things when my back was turned. Some of the most inspirational things come to you when someone's back is turned. Shakespeare wrote _Romeo and Juliet_ while his wife's back was turned," Howard closed his eyes and placed a hand on his chest before continuing, " _'These violent delights have violent ends, and as their triump die, like fire and powder, which, as they kiss, consume'_."

   "Howard, please. Just listen to me," Vince said quietly, looking at the floor. Howard opened his eyes and dropped his hand to his side, surprised at the sad tone of Vince's voice. There was a moment of silence before either of them spoke again.

   "Come with me," Howard said, holding his hand out. Tentatively, Vince took it and allowed himself to be gently guided back to his own room. Not letting go of his hand, Howard sat Vince down on the side of the bed. Howard went to let go of his hand, but Vince held tighter.

   "Don't leave," he begged, eyes wide.

   "I won't. Lie back and I'll tuck you into bed," Howard said. Vince nodded and released his grip. He lay back, resting his head on the pillow, and watched Howard as he pulled up the bed sheets.

   "Now, what was the dream?" Howard asked, sitting in a chair in the corner of the room.

   "I don't know really. I can't remember much, but I think I was turning into Bab-, sorry, The Hitcher. The shaman hornet thing was about to sting my thumb when I woke up. It was worse than it sounds. It sounds wimpy now."

   "No, no, not at all. You can't tell a dream while you're in it."

   "Yeah," Vince said, he's eyes on the ceiling.

   "Are you okay for me to leave?"

   "No." Vince's voice was barely above a whisper.

   "Okay. I'll stay," Howard replied, settling into the chair.

   "Can you, um, come a bit closer?"

   Howard pulled his chair forward to the foot of the bed. "Is that good?"

   "Closer?"

   Howard paused, before getting out of the chair and slipped between the sheets on Vince's bed. Vince curled into him, pulling him close. Howard wrapped his arms around Vince, protecting him from his nightmares.

   "Whatever The Hitcher said doesn't matter. What matters is that I'm here with you. He can't hurt you now."

   "Thank you."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!\  
> Kudos + concrit always welcome!  
> x


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